Faceless Being
by Akitoa.k.a.Kito
Summary: Akito hides behind a mask to hide his suffering.(not being literal) His thoughts on why he does not let anyone see his true nature.


This is my attempt for writing a dramatic story. I usually write humorous, but hell, why not try dramatic?

Akito questions about himself and how he forces people to see a certain viewpoint of him. Why does he act cold-hearted? As he ponders over these thoughts, the hole that grows within his heart becomes bigger with time as a helper in making the heart disappear. He wants to mend his cold-hearted ways, but many times believes that no one can ever reach out to him…

Akito: How does it feel like to live alone? How does it feel like to be around other people, yet feeling as though they are far away, the pang of rejection is close to your heart? These conditions are not new to me. As I watch the birds fly to the sky, as I watch the leaves fall far from me, I see myself drifting farther from the people I know. There are so many people around me, but none of them opened this iron gate surrounding my heart. I fight my own battles, but it seems as though I never win.

I see many things, but I feel so little. How is it like to laugh with friends sitting by your side? How is it like to wake up, knowing where you belong in this world? How is it like to have friends? People say that when they are with their friends, they feel eternal happiness. I have experienced happiness before, but do I really understand what they mean? Have I stretched the feeling of happiness so far, that I have reached the same state that they have? I was born, yet I do not live. Those many birthdays, in which I try to forget, were spent in a quiet room. No one acknowledges it. No one cares. It is this callousness that I see in them, and not the love and kindness that Tohru Honda has opened up.

Hiding behind a mask everyday is not as comfortable as I thought it would be. My hope was to hide all the feelings of pain and suffering from others, and to wallow in its darkness by myself. The want of having others see only a quiet man, yet know that all fears him is the image that I want to possess, and keep. This mask cannot stay over my identity forever. I wish it could. Everyday, children, adults, people of all ages pass by me, looking at me, seeing the calm, cold mask that edges them to think that I am content. If someone were to take away the band that wraps the face around my head, and shatter it to a million pieces so that it would be beyond repair – damaged to the extent that no soul would ever wear it again, how would I feel? I do not know. A hypothesis is unknown. Would I be happy? Would I be sad? Would I just wait for time to tell me the answer? Even if I did wait, what would I feel in between those times of patience? Would I still be alive? Would I be alone?

Loneliness is one word. It is the definition of my empty being. Has one ever felt the heart bear a hole within, and as it grows bigger, it catches the attention of the mind, and make the owner feel pain? No matter how many breaths of air you breathe, no matter what big amounts of food you eat, nothing fills the empty space. It is not a void that sucks the heart inward, for then it would not be a hole. It is some sort of emptiness that exists in the mind of the beholder, and not in the heart itself. Although it may feel as though it is in the heart, the mind rigs loneliness into a feeling, and targets the one main organ that keeps you alive – your heart. This hole will never heal unless all of your feelings of loneliness, despair, and rejection go off into another space. I am not saying that someone who feels happiness temporarily, but goes home in sadness has a healed the heart – they only temporarily stopped the mind from thinking such depressing thoughts. It has to be fully healed, where the whole hole must be mended such that the air you breathe is not empty. Many times I have given up hope that this ever growing tunnel which drives through me would never mend – that no one would ever come to reach their hand out to mine and free me from the iron shackles that bind me within this room. I want to fly far, to meet more people, not just to see them from afar. I want to be like a bird. Birds can fly anywhere they please. I want to be myself, and fly anywhere I wish, so that I could finally have this wound healed by an angelic nurse.


End file.
